You may or may not have noticed, Butters, but an older man in a stained labcoat has been standing next to the bench and watching you mutter to yourself for the past 30 seconds or so and he offers you a curt, half-hearted wave as you look up.

"Hey. And no, you're not imagining it; you're stuck in this shithole and so am I. Now that we've got that out of the way, come on," He sighs, beckoning the other man over. "Walk with me. I mean---you got the memos; there's monsters out here."